by Lori L. Otto
“Bad,” I say, pulling his face to mine for another kiss.
“Denver’s having a snowstorm,” he says, pulling away only long enough and far enough to deliver his news.
“So?” I ask in a breath.
“So Fred can’t get a flight back until tomorrow morning.” He stops kissing me so I can process what he said.
“That sounds like good news,” I say.
“It’s very good news,” he confirms, raising his eyebrows.
“I feel like it’s been years.”
“Hasn’t it?” he asks. “Hours, days, years. It’s all too long. In fact, these minutes...” he says, checking his watch. “How much longer?” he asks against my neck before his lips find the hollow beneath my ear and his hand slips up my skirt. My breath hitches in my throat, and I wait a few seconds before moving it back down to my knee.
As soon as we get to his dorm room, he drops his bags and stands behind me as I walk over to his bed. “Shirt,” he says. With my back to him, I pull the t-shirt over my head and throw it over my shoulder. I begin to glance back to see if I hit him, but he’s too quick, and his cold hands on my stomach startle me before I can even look for him. He kisses my bare shoulders as he unfastens my bra and slides the straps down my arms.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear. I turn around to face him, our lips meeting immediately before I can return the affirmation. He starts to unbutton and unzip his pants while my hands slide up his chest. He slips out of his shirt first as I push his jeans down. He steps out of them, and I check out his muscular back in the mirror.
“Turn around,” I tell him. He does, bending slightly as I kiss his tattoo. I peek up at him in the mirror. He’s watching us, his eyes heavy and lustful. I move in front of him, facing the mirror. His hands slide to my waist, unzipping my skirt. His eyes dance back and forth from the real thing standing inches from him and my reflection a few feet ahead. I feel him push up against me, and I close my eyes, tilting my head back and offering my neck to him.
Brushing my hair away with his nose, his tongue tastes the skin across one of my shoulders and the nape of my neck. Impatient, I finish undressing and turn around to face him. He strokes my long hair, his eyes intently focused on the mirror now.
“Oh, god,” he says, letting go of my hair, moving his hands down my body and grabbing me hard, pulling me into him. One hand slides down my leg, raising it until his fingers reach behind my knee. He pulls my leg around his back, leaning me against the dresser. He teases me, pressing against me in his underwear. It excites me and frustrates me at the same time, and I find myself clawing at the elastic of his boxers, trying to push them down.
“Did you miss me?” he asks with a laugh.
“Yes,” I half-whine. “I want this, so badly.”
“I can tell.”
“Please?” I plead with him. He pulls away from the dresser and finishes undressing. I take two steps forward, filling the space between us. We kiss hungrily, but he breaks away periodically. I realize he’s still watching us in the mirror. It seems to fuel his passion more, because every time he returns to me, his kisses are harder and deeper, his fingers dig further into my skin. “Can we lie down?” I ask him the next time he gives me a chance to breathe. “This is driving me crazy.” I try to pull him over to the bed, but he doesn’t budge, and instead pulls me back to him.
His eyes are alive with need and want. He can’t seem to decide whether he wants to catch his breath, or lose it again by kissing me madly. He seems torn, and it all just feels like he’s teasing me.
“Please?” I beg again.
He shakes his head a little, not taking his eyes off of me. “I want you, Liv. I want to... I don’t know, I want to possess you.”
“Like, put me under a spell, or, like own me? Because I think you’re already well on your way to the first one.”
“Own you,” he sighs. He swallows, and I look at him, anxious and curious. I dig my fingers into his back harder, steadying myself under his intensity. His skin is sticky with a light sheen of sweat.
“What do you mean?” I ask, moving closer, tasting the saline on his chest with my tongue. “Own me?”
“Does that turn you on?” he asks, putting his hands on my ears and tilting my head upward to look at him.
“A little,” I admit. He groans as his mouth attacks mine. Obviously my admission does something to him, too.
His lips move away from mine down my jawline, down my neck to just over my left breast. Over my heart. “Jealousy does strange things to a man,” he says, his voice sounding distant and his attention focused on my body.
“What do you mean?” He moves his hands to my ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of the air entering and exiting my lungs.
“I’m not thinking very clearly right now, Olivia. But even when I was... even in those moments in the past week when I was, I wasn’t,” he says, breathless, kneeling in front of me, kissing my stomach and curling both arms around me.
“You’re not making much sense now,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says, trying to take a breath. He looks up at me, his head tipped a little so I have to look through his lashes to see his eyes. “Olivia, I want to do something with you that I’ve never done with anyone else.”
“Okay,” I say before I can really think about what he wants. I’m not sure what he’s implying. “Will it hurt?”
He shakes his head first, then answers confidently. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Will it feel good?” I ask.
“I hope so,” he says with a smile. “No, I know so,” he laughs out lightly. He stands up and puts his fingers on the nape of my neck, pressing in on pulse points that relax me. My head falls back a little, my mouth open, waiting for him. His tongue runs over my upper lip before finding mine.
I still don’t know what he wants to do, but I don’t really care at this point. I want... I want everything.
He tucks his head onto my shoulder breathing heavily, taking a break. I don’t want that, and move my hand down his body to provoke the reaction I do want. He looks up at me and grins. “Just a second,” he says, bringing that hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
His eyes dance back and forth from mine as words dangle precariously from his lips. “Have you missed any pills?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head, looking confused. “No.”
“You take them like you’re supposed to?”
“Faithfully, every night before bed,” I vow to him. I do.
“Do you have them with you?”
“In my purse,” I tell him. He lets go of me and steps around me to pick my bag up off his bed. He hands it to me. “Why?”
I find the package in my purse, waiting for his answer. He takes it from me slowly, once again meeting my eyes before he very briefly shifts his focus to the pills. He snaps the lid shut and sets them down on his nightstand, smiling at me.
“Why?” I ask again. He looks at my forehead and moves his thumbs to my eyebrows, rubbing them, as if trying to make the confusion go away. He kisses me in between them. “Do you not have any protection?”
He bends slightly, reaching into the drawer next to him and producing a small box of condoms. He pulls one out, opens my palm and sets it there lightly. “I don’t want to wear it,” he admits. We both stop breathing, and I swear I can hear his heart over mine.
“And you’ve never done that with anyone,” I state, putting two and two together. I stare at the condom instead of him, my body still throbbing with anticipation.
“No,” he whispers, closing his hand around mine with the condom keeping our palms from actually touching.
“And you want to, with me,” I say evenly. I should be scared, but I’m only more excited, feeling his passion for me mixed with a tinge of danger.
“Ye–”
I act quickly, standing on my tiptoes to reach his lips. He picks me up and lays me b
ack against his bed, crawling over me. He places a few kisses down my body, then looks back up at me, holding the condom a few inches from my face.
“It’s going to be right here,” he says, tucking it under the pillow I’m lying on. “If you want me to wear it, I will.” I nod and swallow, clawing at his torso, wanting him back against me. “But I’m not going to wear it unless you ask me to.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he asks again. “At any point, just stop me.”
“Stop you from what?” I ask him, my voice needy. “You haven’t started anything yet,” I remind him as his arm muscles finally relent and he settles against me.
His hungry kisses devour me, mine doing the same to him. I don’t have any second thoughts while he makes love to me.
“Livvy!” I jump to alertness, grabbing the sheet when I realize I’m still undressed. It’s dark outside.
“What time is it?” I ask Jon, moving to the side. I’d fallen asleep on top of him.
“Does that say seven forty-five or eight forty-five?” he asks, panicked, looking at an analog clock hanging on his roommate’s wall. It’s just too dark in the room to see. He grabs his phone off of his nightstand and checks the time there. “Seven forty-five,” he says. “Thank god, but get up,” he says, nudging me.
“I’m not gonna make it,” I say, scrambling to find my clothes. He flicks on the lights with the switch by the door, grabbing his shirt and covering himself up. I still catch a glimpse of him and grin, momentarily forgetting the urgency. He’s still turned on. Or he’s turned on again.
“You’ll make it. You could probably sprint and make it there.”
“I’m not doing that.” I see myself in his mirror and gasp. “I cannot go home like this!” I exclaim. “I have to do something with my hair... do my lips look swollen?” I ask, panicked, running my fingers along them.
“Pull your hair back,” he says as he puts his boxers on, “and yes, they do. So do mine,” he says, examining his mouth in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl up as he turns to me and presses them to mine gently. “Better?” he breathes.
“I don’t have time for that!” I tell him.
“Get ready.” He puts his jeans back on and opens his door. “I’ll go get a cab.”
“Put a shirt on!” I demand. “What if someone recognizes us?” He shuts the door and finds the shirt again, dragging it over his head quickly. He grabs a Yankee’s ball cap from Fred’s dresser and tosses it to me.
“Put that on. Cab,” he states again, leaving. I’m only about thirty seconds behind him, deciding I can put lipstick on in the car to try to disguise my raw mouth. When I reach him, he pulls down on one side of my skirt, straightening it for me.
“Thanks,” I say as a taxi pulls up in front of us. I start toward it hurriedly, but he pulls me back to him, enveloping me in a tight hug. His embrace restricts my arms, and I laugh a little.
“Look at me,” he says. I glance up from under the brim of the cap and smile. He pulls the hat off momentarily to kiss me, then playfully tugs it back down, obscuring my eyes. “Thank you,” he says. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I tell him, finding it impossible to bite back the smile.
“Let me know if you make it,” he says, pushing me gently toward the cab and then stepping around me to open the door.
“When,” I correct him nervously.
“Yes, when,” he agrees, shutting the door. As the car drives away, he holds up two crossed fingers. After I apply my lipstick, I pull my phone out and stare at it, watching the minutes tick away as all the stop lights seem to be working against me. The taxi pulls up to my house with one minute to spare. I remember to take off the cap just before I open the door, shoving it into my purse.
CHAPTER 22
I watch as Camille picks away at the sandwich she’d brought with her. She sighs, keeping her eyes trained on her food and avoiding me. “He really didn’t talk about me at all? All week?”
I touch her arm gently. She puts her food down and turns her hand over to hold mine across the table. Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes watery and her brow furrowed.
“No,” I tell her, continuing the conversation we need to have, that she has to hear. Before Spring Break, I’d been encouraging her to set Finn free, with the promise that he’d come back if he loved her. That was before I’d realized he didn’t. My mission now is to convince her to move on.
“But did he talk about Natalia?”
“No,” I answer. “I didn’t get the impression that was a long-term thing.”
“So then there’s hope?”
“Camille, why do you want him? There are so many better guys out there than him.”
“Just because you found one doesn’t mean there’s an abundance of them.”
“No, but he’s proof they exist. Did you really think you’d stay together forever? Through college and everything?”
“Yes!” she exclaims. “The only college I applied to is the one he’s going to–”
“Camille!”
“Well, I thought we’d get married...”
“Oh, Camille,” I say in a soothing tone, rubbing her arm. “You don’t want to marry a guy who cheats. Can you imagine? There’d always be a little resentment about Natalia, and then you’d never fully trust him. He’d come home from work late, and that little fact would always be nagging at you.”
“I think I could learn to get past it,” she says as a tear falls down her cheek. I glare across the cafeteria where Finn sits. His eyes had been focused on us since we sat down.
I mouth the word ‘jerk’ to him. He nods and shrugs. He really should be the one having this conversation, with her, but I know how desperate my best friend is, and I know it would be hard for a spineless man to sit through that. I roll my eyes at him and look back at Camille.
“Is that your phone?” she asks. I hear the clatter of the vibrating phone against my compact in my purse and pull it out.
“Hey!” I say cheerfully to Jon.
“You at lunch?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m out front, just outside the gate. Do you think you can come out?”
“Ummm... I’m not supposed to leave the campus during the day, but... I guess they’ll never know.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
I hang up the phone as my eyes beg for Camille’s forgiveness. “We can go for coffee after school or something,” I tell her. “My treat. You can cry on my shoulder all you want, but right now, he shouldn’t see you shed one more tear for him. You’re better than he is.”
“I know,” she says, swallowing back more emotions. “What’s Jon want?”
“Not sure,” I say, packing up my things and grabbing my tray. “See you after school. I’ll meet you at your locker, okay?” She sniffles and nods her head, giving me a small smile. “That’s better.”
After putting my tray away, I wander down a side hall and leave through the northern-most door. The school has so many windows, though, it’s not easy to sneak out, so I don’t really try. I can’t get into too much trouble if they catch me.
Jon’s standing near the curb with a bright red gift bag in hand. I smile, wondering what’s inside. “Hi,” I say, my happiness to see him bubbling over in my step, and then in our kiss. Every time I think about yesterday, my body responds with a rapid heartbeat and a telling grin. The hours we spent together in his dorm on Sunday were the best hours of my life. I’d never felt closer to him, or more in love with him. I felt bonded to him, committed. I felt like I was his. It was what he wanted. It was what I wanted, too. “What’d you get me?” I ask cheekily.
He hesitates, and doesn’t smile. “Wanna walk to your car? Are you in the private lot?”
“I can’t skip class,” I tell him.
“No, I’m not asking you to.”
“Do you need my car?”
“No, Livvy. Just walk with me?”
“Okay. Can I open the present?”
> “Wait until we cross the street,” he says, handing me the bag. I peek inside, and immediately see the plastic container on top. My stomach drops, and I stop walking in the middle of the street. Jon tugs at my arm, forcing me to move. “C’mon, it’s fine, baby. Get to the sidewalk at least.”
“I didn’t take it,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “How did I not take it?”
“I shouldn’t have put them on the nightstand,” he says. “Take it now,” he instructs me. “There’s a bottle of water in there.”
I nod quickly as he guides me into the parking garage. Once we’re inside, I find a bench to sit on, immediately next to the door. I take out the packet of birth control pills cautiously, eyeing Sunday’s pill like it betrayed me. My fingers fumble as I try to punch it through the foil, but it eventually stops fighting me. Jon opens the water, handing it to me as I pop the pill on my tongue. I drink half of the bottle because my mouth feels suddenly dry.
“It’s fine, though,” I say. Even though it sounded like a statement, I expect his confirmation.
“Yes.” He sits down next to me and puts his hand on my knee, squeezing it gently. We both stare at the ground, and he taps his toes to mine, trying to get a response. I’m too worried to move. My stomach is queasy. “I guess you can only be so careful,” he says, shaking his head. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have asked for that. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s fine, right?”
“Yes, Liv. I’m sure it’s fine.”
I exhale and nod, noticing that the gift bag isn’t as light as it should be. There’s something else inside. Jon sighs heavily as I push the paper away to reveal the contents. I pull out a small box, reading the label aloud. “Plan B,” I say. “What’s this?” I read the type below. Emergency contraceptive. “The morning-after pill? You said it’s fine.”
“It is, baby. I’m sure it is.”
“Then why did you give me this if it’s fine?”
“For your peace of mind,” he says. “I’m confident, Liv. It would be highly unlikely based on where you are in your cycle,” he says, “and you’ve been taking the pills regularly until last night.”
